


A Small, Changing World

by Yeetustothefetus



Series: Old fools of The Earth [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Other, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeetustothefetus/pseuds/Yeetustothefetus
Summary: Maglor adopts three children and calls a friend to house them for a while, a party is planned and shenanigans via old coots ensue, what could go wrong?
Relationships: Maglor | Makalaurë & Original Female Character(s) & Original Male Character(s), Írimë | Lalwen/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Old fools of The Earth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945234
Kudos: 3
Collections: SilmGood - Feel Good stories for the Silmarillion





	A Small, Changing World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maglor_still_lives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maglor_still_lives/gifts).



> A slightly self indulgent work, featuring @maglor-still-lives' original character Draugil.  
> He will come by in a lot of chapters, don't worry!

The warm sunrise felt nice against Tintallë's skin, soaking the vitamins the early sunshine provided before it would become scorching to their skin.  
The loud crashing sound of waves against steep rocks of the shore reminded them of certain friends, and with their dark brown eyes staring into the vast deep blue of the ocean meeting the lightness of the sky, they thought of Maglor. They thought of the rather insanity inducing fate he was subjected to; to walk the earth for as long as it lasted, sorrowful laments unable to reach where they were meant to be sent, like letters burnt in a fireplace.  
  
It had been at least a few decades since their last encounter, but they understood as the Fëanorian preferred to keep to himself. They wouldn't probably be able to find him unless he wanted himself shown, but they were too old to know enough not to forcefully pry him from where he was.  
Decades and centuries were nothing more than a blink of an eye in regards to Tintallë's passage of time, in such a mundane world where magic merely served as entertainment and a myth, and unexplained things replaced with the explanation of logic and everything has to be a certain way; they could say it was truly dull, lackluster and--  
  
The phone that had been sitting on the nightstand cold for a while had made it's presence known once again, vibrating and alerting them with the sound of a ringtone.  
They sigh, exiting the balcony and made their way inside to tend to whoever called.  
Pressing the 'answer' button, they held the phone up to their ear; "What is it that you want?" They mutter to the person on the other side of the line.

The person-- a man, answered them. "May I let some children stay with you for a while?"  
  
For a moment they did not answer out of surprise despite it being a routine; Maglor had the habit of taking in children that were uncared for by their parents or abandoned children in general.  
With an inaudible and exasperated sigh, they brought a hand to their face. "How many are they?"  
  
"Three." He answered curtly, and the background noise in the call made it obvious that he was driving.  
  
A sound of relief made it past their lips, thankfully it was not the whole "borrowed" population of an entire orphanage again; the time the children entered their house almost gave their physical body a cardiac arrest from the sheer number of children. "Watch the road, Kano." 

  
It was not exactly a yes or no, the dial hung up and he was once again met with the sound of his radio; turned on by none other than Theo, a young boy no more than the age of nine that reminded him of the Ambarussa.  
"Mr. Swinsere? Was that auntie you were talking to?" A girl, who's name was Emilia who sat at the back seat with Leo; twin of Theo spoke up.  
Maglor never let them call him their father, at least not for now, not when they were not aware of its impact. Though slip ups happen here and there, he never scolded them for it.  
"Yes, that was your aunt Rosalinda." He answered her while still being mindful of the road, glancing at her through the rear view mirror for a moment to see her excited face before averting to the road once again.  


The trip proved to be peaceful, as the kids had sung happy melodies to keep their boredom at bay. The crunching of rocks and common ground debris entered his ears upon parking the car.  
He turned off the engine and opened the door before letting the kids down with him, they left the car with happy innocent bells of childish giggles while running excitedly through the array of assorted and colorful flowers scattered around the field.  
  
He called for the children when he began the trek uphill, the drifting scent of various flowers invading his nostrils, giving the scent of comfort and home; the children would like it here.  
They passed by the pristine gazebo that stood there and turned left, finding a set of safe stairs down that lead to the actual house.  
Knocking on the door with a certain rhythm, they heard the sound of rushed footsteps getting louder before it abruptly stopped behind the door. The door opened and they were welcomed in by the smell of fresh baked goods and cozy looking living room, the young woman who the children assumed was their aunt Rosalinda gave them a warm smile and ushered them to sit down and make themselves comfortable.  
  
"Any drinks?" Tintallë asked them as they placed the neatly wrapped cookies on a fancy tray; the cloth wrappings were a just in case scenario just in case had Maglor planned to leave sooner or later. 

"Just water please." Leo chimed as he swung his little legs back and forth, his brother sat beside him and chatted with Emilia with a topic that concerned sand castles and happy endings, just like in Maglor's slightly altered stories.  
Stories of Valinor and its realms and the people who dwelt there, and how things ended. He had to alter the bitter parts as they were not elflings, he understood that there were too many things they would not understand and do not understand. He did not want them to be more miserable than they already were, knowing their predicament.

Tintallë returned with three glasses of water and a bottle of expensive wine, no doubt for Maglor.  
The children immediately rushed to get their share of water and cookies that came along with it, and when they returned back to their seats Tintallë handed him the bottle.  
  
"It's for you, you're thinking too hard on this. I'm happy that you're at least doing something rather than mope about the shores and sing yourself to death." They said to him gently, he gingerly accepted the wine from their grasp and they hand him a glass.  
Of course the wine would never be able to get him drunk or even be sober; it wasn't valinorian wine, but good enough to distract him for a bit due to the exquisite texture.  
  
Tintallë sat down on a chair to his left as the children played. "That reminds me, it's our reunion. Reunion of the century anyways."  
Maglor blinked, had it really been that long? He sipped the rich excuse of a grape juice from the glass, his passage of time had been faulty as of late.  
"You mean you invited the others?" His eyes slowly made contact with their own.  
"Well yes of course, and it's not in a gentleman's bar this time." Tintallë laughed at his disturbed expression.  
"What? It's also to support those dancers too, just so you know."  
He merely takes another sip of the wine upon their answer, as obscene as the context was they did have a point that those people needed support; the profession subtly mentioned had been around for many millennia, possibly the first occupation to exist amongst humanity. 

"What do you have for a job?" They suddenly ask him.  
  
"A professor, majoring in Literature and Music." He answered after he lowered the glass. "Yours? It's only fair for you to answer."  
They grinned. "An artist, both painting and sculpture."  
  
Ah, he's seen one of their crafts; "Of Mairon", if he recalled correctly. "I was not informed that you take interest in the gifts of art." He told them with a tone of genuine surprise. The closest he came to guessing what they would be like was a historian, due to their fondness of history and books. 

"Really? I've always been interested in the arts, I guess I never had time to think about it back then." They stated, recalling a memory of the soul that acted as an adhesive to their being, the reason why they even have a personality, a sense of morality.  
"I recall loving it, and I think I once sketched random things as a hobby." They gave an empty laugh, as if the memory was never theirs. 

Maglor grew silent, not that it was uncharacteristic.  
  
"Mr. Swinsere! Mr. Swinsere!" Theo's voice called out for him as Emilia started to cry. A breath escaped through Tintallë's nose as they both stood up from their seats and strode towards the children.  
  
"What happened?" Maglor asked the children softly. "Emilia saw a monster under the couch."  
Tintallë sighed and crouched to take the doll of a night creature that somehow ended up there.  
"It's just wool kids, don't worry." They reassure the children, even though it was only a hand made toy, it sent terrors up in their spines, possibly depriving them of sleep in the incoming evening without a lullaby.  
  
"Oh, and uh... I have to go get some groceries and all the things necessary for tonight, I trust that you won't end up wrecking my house?" Tintallë set the toy aside, away from the eyes of the children as they said this.  
"I do not mind, I suppose a rest should be issued." Maglor replied upon a short glance of his watch, only two days of rest and then he would finally go back to the university.  
"You should, you have kids to take care of and you're working in college." He heard them speak loudly from the other side of the hallway before hearing a door close.  
"Mr. Swinsere, please tell us another story." Emilia tugged at his slacks, the twins joined in anchoring his legs in place and he eventually gave in to their desires.  
  
"I'll be off, tell the kids not to touch anything important, or you'll be the one I'm throwing into the ocean." Like the blasted silmaril, Tintallë would have loved to continue.  
The young woman left the house, Maglor was friends with them long enough to know they were merely joking. With the anticipation of the children, he continued the story. 

The drive was not eventful and finally they reached their destination, immediately heading for what they came for. Getting necessary things had been a lot easier, especially with the help of technology, more variety, and more exploration of flavour. Cooking and food had been one of the few things that kept this world from being boring, at least in their opinion.  
There was never much to live for as everyone kept going through the same cursed cycle all over again, then they exited the mall with the purchased goods and loaded them into the car.  
They headed for their next destination, a well known establishment for people willing to go on business: a bar. 

"Sister Margaret's home for wayward girls." They gave a small laugh. "How nostalgic." They jovially say upon entering the said establishment.  
"B-52 cocktail for me, Max!" They announced to the bartender who had been mixing drinks. The bar was fairly empty, which was understandable since it was daytime.  
"Incoming, loaded with plenty of cream this time?" The woman asked with a grin as they approached her in the counter.  
"Why yes of course! Sprinkle it with my favourite, I'll pay extra." They smiled and then whispered something to her, all the while glancing at a certain table every now and then.  
  
"I got you." Max winked before Tintallë turned on their heel and headed to the table where an old friend sat, his face haggard and looks like he was just about to be done with the work he was facing in the laptop in front of him.  
"That's rough." They began, much to him being startled and closing the device shut.  
"Jesus!" Draugil sighed in exasperation as he closed his eyes to calm himself down.  
"Not quite." Tintallë flashed him a toothed grin, he groaned and facepalmed at the attempt of humor.  
"Now now, don't be so gloomy! We're gonna have a reunion tonight, lighten up!" They pat him in the back, he stiffened from the contact and opened his eyes once more.  
"I still have work to do." He told them. "Ah, that can come later, or we can have Maglor handle that with this creepy singing."  
"Creepy singing--?"  
"Here's your drinks!" The bartender called them, Tintallë left for a moment to fetch them and set them on the table. "I miss you guys, okay? You're literally one of the three people I can relate being miserable with." They vent to him as they pick up their ordered drink and took a huge gulp. Draugil's gaze lingered upon the beverage presented in front of him before hesitantly drinking it.  
  
Lightly slamming the cup down the oak table, Draugil deadpanned. "Why don't you get another woman to be miserable with, then?" He questioned with a pointed look, a glint of mock irritation present in his brown eyes.  
The cosmic creature simply rolled their eyes in response, placing the nearly empty drink down. "Girls here die too quick man, they're gone in the blink of an eye." Male or female, Tintallë never discriminated. The elf in front of them takes a swig of the flavourful whiskey, humming in agreement. 

Thier phone vibrated in their left pocket twice, signifying a message. Tintallë picked it up and read the message, after a few seconds disappointment settled down on their face as they returned the phone back to the pocket; Daeron would not be able to go, I have an appointment, he wrote as an excuse, that was what he had said a hundred years ago too.  
But they knew all too well it was to avoid Maglor, who were they to force him to go anyways? 

Draugil resumed in typing away at the laptop he had recently opened, taking a casual sip of whiskey here and there. "So?" He asked them, not even sparing them a glance. 

"He said he can't go, I don't blame him in all honesty. The actions of the Feanorians aren't exactly the best, I forgive them but I do not in any way support or excuse those acts." They told him with a solemn sigh, they couldn't blame him really.  
The elf halted in his typing upon the censored mention of the kinslaying, his shoulders stiff and jaw tense. And as if sensing their mistake, Tintallë muttered an apology, his body being brought back to relaxation after snapping out of the unpleasantries. 

"Ah shit, gotta go bro. I forgot time existed." They sheepishly scratched their head as they stood from their seat, ready to take their leave. Draugil got ahold of their wrist before they could fully leave the table, and passed a file. "Here, I think I do need your help in this." He released their wrist, giving them a curt nod before they left the bar right after paying the bartender, opting for her to keep the change. 

Draugil watched as their car drove off before returning to his work, no doubt an illegal transaction. He had too many things to do for now, lucky for him, Tintallë was a reliable partner he could count on for the reports. 

  


  
  



End file.
